A New Beginning
by DTMJ
Summary: Post COHF. What will happen when Jace, Simon, and Alec are all requested to move back to Idris by no other than the Clave itself? Will the others agree and be content with leaving their lives back in New York for a new one in Idris? What drama will unfold between the Mortal War heroes in the next chapter of their lives? Will Idris be as welcoming as they remember? Rated T for now
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! I know it's been such a long time since I've last updated Redemption for 24, and the only excuse I could say is high school. It's crappy, I know, but it's all I got. Another thing: I'm going to tweak the storyline of RF24 a bit. Let's be real here – it started to really suck. I know none of you guys said anything about it, which is fine for my ego, but not fine for the story. So, yeah. That story is temporarily gone and will be reloaded soon._

_This is a new story I've been chewing on. The idea had been slowly formulating in my head since flipping the last page of COHF, and I just now decided to do something about it – nearly a year later. Call me sad, it's perfectly okay. Because I get it. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the flamboyant characters. I do not own the fabulous home country. All of that belongs to the one and only phenomenal Cassie._

* * *

><p><em>And when the night is cloudy, <em>

_there is still a light, _

_that shines on me,_

_shine until tomorrow, _

_let it be._

_-Paul McCartney _

The harsh wind of New York broke through the wool hoodie he had thrown on that morning and froze the blood in his veins. Every huff a ghost; every step a freezing burn; every breath an icy storm; and every shudder more powerful than the rest. Not for the first time he had wondered why he jumped up from bed so quickly after receiving the message, thrown on a sweatshirt and boots, and headed out of his respected room in the Institute.

Finally, he saw his destination: Taki's, a restaurant with a dingy appearance but an impressive inside. He shouldered his way through the set of double doors and walked into the bright restaurant, almost empty from the odd hour of the week. He searched the place for a mop of golden curls; after spotting the guy waving him over, he headed over to the booth and sunk into the chair opposite of _his_.

Of Jace.

Jace returned from the Mortal War in nearly one piece, several deep scars now permanently embedded into his chest and his shoulder, both brought on by his girlfriend's psychotic brother, Sebastian – or, better known as in the Shadow World, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. He shuddered at the thought of his white blond hair, his dark eyes, and his cruel smirk. Some things, even mental scarring, will never fully heal. Clary must be an expert on this topic.

Jace cocked an eyebrow. "Everything okay over there, Simon?"

Simon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Jace Herondale – even fighting in a war that almost ended everyone he loves' life hadn't been able to wash away the tint to his egoistic attitude. "No," he said in dripping sarcasm, "I absolutely cannot handle the distant proximity between us any longer. Please, do me a favor and extend it farther."

The corner of Jace's mouth quirked up, but he didn't shoot back. "Now is hardly the time for such idle banter," he said instead. "We're here for a reason."

"Right." Simon said, suddenly finding the corner of the table much more interesting than Jace's unnerving gaze on him.

He heard the other guy drum his fingers against the polished table impatiently. Sending him a quizzical scowl, Simon noticed Jace bite back a retort and mentally decide to be subtle. "I ordered two coffees five minutes ago," he explained. "They still haven't brought me anything."

"Aw, look at you," Simon mocked. "Ordering my drinks already. What's next, sharing smoothies and photo booths?"

"Only in your fantasies – oh, look, here they are," he said, accepting the two steaming mugs from the male waiter with large, orange ears. The waiter nodded at them and whirled on his heels, dashing back to the kitchen.

Simon, ignoring the waiter's behavior, accepted his mug from Jace and took a sip – and nearly gagged on the bitterness of black coffee. "Eugh," he said, clanging the mug clumsily on the table. Jace, who had been in mid-sip, raised his brows over at him. "Black coffee," he expressed. "That's a Clary thing, not me."

Jace snorted and sat his mug down, too. "That reminds me," he said, suddenly all business. "We're both on the same page, right?"

"I'm taking that as we're both straight, which I can confirm yes, I'd like to say we are." said Simon automatically.

Jace stared at him for a moment, long and hard. Then, finally: "It's nice to know we got that clarified, Simon, after declaring your love to my sister only a few years ago."

"Shut up," Simon quipped half-heartedly. "But seriously, yes, I get why you contacted me, and I get why we need to talk."

"Perfect." He took another sip, smacked his lips, and sat the mug down once again. He gazed deep into the mug's contents, swirling the cup slightly, and Simon noticed the coffee swishing alarmingly close to the brim. He feared for a moment Jace was going to spill the coffee on the table. "Then let's get talking."

"Okay," Simon exhaled. He folded his hands on the table. "So, is it true? The Clave really invited you into the whatever–?"

Jace sat the mug down with a clatter. "The NA – Nephilim Assemblage. Yes, they did."

Simon leaned forward on the table eagerly. "What exactly is that, anyway?"

Jace sunk down a bit in his chair. "It's a group of experienced Shadowhunters," he said, "that go across the world to aid Nephilim in trouble." He bit the inside of his cheek. "It's an honor."

"Why were you invited, and no one else?" Simon asked, curiosity getting best of him.

Jace glanced up at him in surprise. "Alec was invited into it, too."

Simon gnawed at his bottom lip in thought. "So that means…"

"Yes," he said. "Alec is leaving."

"Well, that's good, right?" When Jace sent him a questioning look, Simon quickly continued. "Now we have more support to leave."

"I guess," he said. Jace stared at him levelly. "Why were you invited back to Idris?"

Simon shrugged. "I did well in the Academy," he said, and started to smirk a bit. "They want me back to teach mundane culture."

"At least you're probably good at that."

His eyes narrowed at Jace, but didn't banter back. Like he said, it really wasn't the time. Instead he fidgeted with the handle on the cup. "We all have to leave, then," he said. "To Idris."

Jace nodded. "That is the situation, yes."

"And we have to move there," Simon continued, ignoring Jace's comment. "Permanently."

"Yes, good job Simon," said Jace sarcastically. "You've stated the obvious. What's next, declaring water is wet?"

"Shut up," Simon declared, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "God, you're an ass. I don't see how Clary can stand you."

"She doesn't," he implied casually, sending him a wink.

Simon, not wanting to dwell on what that meant, quickly continued with the business at hand. "Have you told Clary of the news?"

Jace's smirk slid off his face. "No," he said finally. "I thought we agreed to wait to tell everyone at once."

"We did," he said quickly. "I was just wondering."

A silence. Jace spoke up after a minute of being wrapped up in his own thoughts. "Are you planning on inviting Isabelle with you?"

Simon stared at him, a bit startled. "Of course I am," he said. "Are you with Clary?"

"What do you think?"

"I'm taking that as a yes, then."

Jace rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Through narrowed eyes he studied Simon, chewing the inside of his cheek in thought. "We tell everyone the news in two days," he said finally. "At the Institute."

"_Two days_?" Simon stared at him in an incredulous shock. "Why so soon?"

"Because the faster the news is over with, the faster we'll move over there," said Jace in an obvious tone. "The Clave keeps on contacting me for my reply. It's annoying, and I can't answer without knowing if I want to move there yet."

"How do you not know if you want to go?" Simon asked. "You're practically planning your lunch schedules as we speak."

"It's not if I personally want to choose," said Jace, suppressing another eye roll and biting back a retort. Simon wondered if all his sarcastic remarks were taking a toll from Clary. "It's if Clary is willing to come with."

Oh. Of course Jace wouldn't want to leave if it meant separating himself from Clary. The two are practically married as it is. _Whipped_, he thought maliciously, and Simon instantly felt better. "I'm sure she'd say yes," he assured the other boy. "There's no way she'd let you give this honor up for her."

But Jace didn't seem to be listening. "You think so?" was all he muttered.

Simon took a deep breath. "So that's it, then? Gloating why we've both been invited back to the home country over coffee?"

"_Late_ coffee, may I add," Jace chipped in. "And pretty much, unless your fantasized mind thought of doing something else. It's okay; you're not the first person who dreams about me."

Simon muttered something incoherent under his breath and made to get up.

Jace, who had shrugged at his sour expression, stood up out of his chair and dropped a five dollar bill on the table. "I would say this had been nice," he said, "but you've been exceptionally rude, which ruined my day."

"Looks like my mission has been accomplished," Simon mumbled. Jace didn't seem to hear him as he crossed the restaurant and, with one last look over at Simon's standing form, shouldered his way through the doors, leaving without so much as a goodbye. Simon rolled his eyes when he realized the money Jace left wasn't enough for two coffees. With a string of curses, he whipped out his wallet, dropped another five, and tucked it back in his pocket, leaving through the restaurant's doors just as Jace had done. Making a split decision, he turned the opposite direction he came from and began walking to the Fray's. For some strange reason, he wasn't in the mood to see any more arrogant Shadowhunters.

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><p><em>It gets better, I promise. <em>

_~MJ_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Disclaimer - All rights go to Cassandra Clare, who, coincidentally, owns the reality in which I wish to live.**

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><p><em>Dark is the night<em>

_I can weather the storm_

_Never say die_

_I've been down this road before_

_-Brian McKnight_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"He's acting _so weird_."

"Well, have you talked to him about it?"

"No…"

"_Clary_!"

"Well, what do you propose I do? Go up to him and admit my suspicions he's cheating?"

Isabelle sighed in exasperation, her dark hair undone and cascading down her shoulders in a waving grace. Even bearing no makeup, she still is the most beautiful girl Clary had ever met. Once that thought would've been followed with a burning jealousy that was hard to tame, but now she couldn't wish a better feat for Izzy. The girl was beautiful on the outside and beautiful on the inside. It works. "No," she said, flipping a lock behind her ear. She shook her head. "I don't know about this, Clary. He doesn't seem the one to cheat. Especially on you."

"That's what I thought," Clary muttered. She took a quick glance around the other girl's room. Once, a few years back the walls bore a glittery façade that reminded Clary of a disco ball. Now, with the owner of the room grown and matured, the glitter had been painted over with a shade of mauveine. The room now wasn't quite so messy, either – Isabelle had invested in a new, elegant dresser containing many drawers that stored her makeup, clothing, fashionable scabbards and sheathes, and even some fashionable demon weapons. Everything fit, so naturally nothing needed to be thrown on the floor.

A hand was waved in her face, drawing her back to an annoyed Isabelle. "By the Angel, you do that too much," she declared, her hand dropping back to her lap. She picked up her nail file and leisurely scraped at her already-perfect nails. "You know, going off in your own head." She waved the file in emphasis.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Lately I've had a lot on my mind, sorry."

Isabelle snorted. "Yeah, clearly," she said sarcastically. "Dealing with a may-or-may-not be cheating boyfriend who declares his love for you every time he breathes must really be a head-scratcher, right?"

"Isabelle," Clary groaned. Her head dropped limp in her hands. "He's just so… _distant _nowadays. I rarely see him anymore, and when I do, he's guarded. Which makes _no sense at all_. I mean, why would he be guarded from _me_? And sometimes, when he's alone in his room, I catch him writing something in a fire message. He does that almost every week. And when I confronted him about it, he always says he's talking to Simon, or Alec, or Magnus. But why not call?" Clary lifted her head to meet the steady gaze of Isabelle, who was gnawing worriedly at her lower lip. "Why not call?"

Isabelle didn't speak for a long time. Finally she slowly shook her head. "I don't know, Clary," she said softly. "It doesn't look good, that's for sure."

"No," she said, and even she heard the exhaustion and exasperation in her voice, "it doesn't."

Isabelle, who had been sitting Indian-style on her bed, jumped up. "Simon," she said, in response to Clary's startled expression. "He met up with Jace yesterday. He told me. Maybe Jace made some indication as to why he's so suspicious."

Clary sat up straight at that. She shifted herself to face Isabelle, who was dialing a number in her phone. She lifted the phone to her ear and leaned against the dresser. "Come on, Simon," she muttered. "Pick up. Please, pick up. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…. Oh, hey, Simon!"

Clary gripped the duvet on Isabelle's bed in an anxious suspense. She carefully watched Isabelle's expressions as she spoke. "No, no, I'm fine. Clary's fine. We're all fine. I just–" her happy smile dropped into confusion. Clary's heart started to race. "What? Oh, okay. No problem. It's okay." But it clearly wasn't, as Izzy worried her lip to such an extreme her mouth paled from strain. "Yeah, we'll talk later. Okay, yeah, love you too. Bye."

Clary watched as Isabelle, who had paled exceptionally during the conversation, lowered the phone onto her dresser. "What happened?"

"Simon," she whispered. She hugged herself tightly, as if to keep herself from falling apart. "He never sounded so nervous before. It was almost as if right when he heard my voice, he started to freak out. I heard someone on the other line," she added, almost as an afterthought. "It sounded like a girl."

"Oh, Izzy," Clary sighed. "Don't let yourself do this. Chances are, it was probably one of his old band mates." She shrugged lightly. "They can sound feminine sometimes."

Isabelle shook her head frantically. "Clary, don't you remember? He broke off all connections with his mundane life, like, five years ago, when he agreed to attend the Academy."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Oh, my God." She stared at Isabelle in shock. "Do you think…maybe…," She broke off, the words forming on her lips too hard to release. If it her words were true, the reality would crush her.

It seems Isabelle was stronger. "Both our guys are cheating?" She finished bitterly. She bit harder on her lip, and Clary saw the slightest wince come out from her. "It wouldn't be the first time Simon did it to me."

Clary flinched. She thought of when she walked in on Jace in a deep make out session with Aline, and the memory brought on a slight sting. And then she thought of those lonely weeks of when he was slowly becoming possessed with Lilith, and remembered thinking that their relationship was in ashes. "I understand." she sighed heavily.

Isabelle's gaze was redirected on her, but not fully – her dark eyes seemed to be millions of miles away. "I can't believe this is happening," she declared finally, after they spent several moments in silence, staring at each other. "I thought Simon really cared this time, after Maia was out of the way."

"Isabelle," Clary interrupted. "We don't actually have proof of them cheating. We still have one last string of hope left."

"Which is?"

The corner of Clary's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "If there's one person who would know _for sure_ if either of them were cheating," she said, "it would be your brother. It would be Alec."

It didn't take long for both of the girls to jump up, throw on their coats, slip into gloves, hats, and their boots, grab their respected weapons (Clary her sword heosphoros, and Isabelle her whip) and head out of the Institute. After the end of the War, Alec had moved out of the Institute and into Magnus's apartment in Brooklyn.

After stepping out of the Institute, icy wind whipped both the girls' hair in their face and stuck their blood into ice. The frost bites of the wild snow bit into their skin and collected into their hair. Desperately Clary hailed a taxi, and out of relief, one finally skidded to a stop next to the curb they stood at. Isabelle yanked open the car door and both girls climbed in, slamming off the icy wind behind them.

"Brooklyn," Isabelle called to the taxi driver, and quickly told him the directions as the cab shot down the street.

Clary stared out the window, her mind lost into a flurry of thoughts. Jace had been acting strange for a long time now – maybe three weeks, four at best. They hadn't had a full, proper conversation in a month, and every time she saw him, he would gradually grow more nervous. Jace, nervous. It was almost unthinkable. Biting her lip, she remembered all those nights of waking up to see him bent over his desk, scribbling a fire message, and watched in an aching sadness as it lit into flame. And she remembered how hard it was to pretend she was still asleep as he slipped into bed beside her.

"Clary," Isabelle said, digging her elbow into her ribs. Clary looked at her reproachfully, and smiled as she realized they were at Magnus's. She whipped open the door, tossed a twenty to the driver, and jumped out of the car, Isabelle sticking close behind her. They walked up to Magnus's apartment as the cab sped away, and Isabelle knocked on the door.

And out came Magnus in his full, glittery self, wearing a neon pink tux with a golden tie, and standing behind him was Alec, who looked – well, so _Alec_. He bore one of his sweaters and jeans, though after living with Magnus for so long, Clary noticed the sweater had no holes, and seemed to come from a more expensive brand. She bit back a tiny smile as Isabelle stepped forward, just as Magnus opened his mouth. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise," he said, grinning at them both. "Isabelle and Clary, dropping in for an unexpected visit."

"Magnus," Alec cut off. "Don't."

"What?" Magnus glanced down at Alec. "I was merely welcoming our guests. A pity they have to leave so soon."

"Alec," Isabelle said, ignoring the warlock. "We need to talk. Now."

Alec glanced at Magnus in warning, as if to say _do not speak_. "Isabelle, I'm happy to see you, really," he said. "But now isn't a good time."

"Why?" Isabelle demanded, looking between Alec and Magnus, who glanced at each other anxiously. "Wait," she said, realization dawning on her. "You're both dressed up nicely. Where are you both going?"

"Uh…," Alec said, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. "Clave business."

Isabelle cocked an eyebrow. "Clave business?"

"What I don't see," Magnus said, "is how this is any of your business."

"It's my business that I want to talk to my older brother and being rejected in a time of need is _so not cool!_" Isabelle frowned at Alec. "You're failing being a brother. What will our mother say?"

Alec rolled his eyes to the sky. "Alright, _fine_. You win. Come on in."

Magnus whirled on Alec. "_Alexander_–"

"Magnus," Alec shook his head at him, a silent warning. Magnus, getting the message, nodded and thinned his lips. He stepped aside and let in Isabelle and Clary, who were both shivering from being out in the cold for so long.

Their apartment had always been cozy and inviting, and today was no exception. The living room updated its status to black leather couches that held colorful throw pillows. A Persian rug was thrown over dark oak wood flooring, and large flat screen with several game consoles occupied the wall above the extravagant fireplace. Overlooking the room were large windows draped with blood red curtains. Isabelle shrugged off her trench coat and draped it over the bar chair in the kitchen. Clary slipped out of her own coat and gloves, but respectfully hung them on the peg by the doorway. Magnus was already pissed – she didn't want to anger him further and have him turn her into a rat.

Alec followed them inside and fell into the leather armchair sitting by the windows. Isabelle slumped into the couch beside him, and Clary followed her lead, not without noticing Magnus hanging out around the kitchen. She sent an anxious glance at him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. His arms were crossed and his jaw was clearly locked. She turned her attention back at the Lightwood siblings.

"So," Isabelle began, rubbing her hands together to generate heat. "We have rising suspicions."

"Really?" Alec interrupted, sitting up. "Suspicions? This couldn't wait?"

"No." Isabelle said, and something in her voice made Alec alert. He didn't slump back down in his chair, and instead narrowed his eyes at his sister. "This can't."

Isabelle shot a sideways look at Clary, and she realized she needed to speak now. "Alec, have you had contact with Jace or Simon lately?"

His narrowed gaze slid over to her, and after gnawing at his cheek for a moment, his eyes widened slightly. "No," he said, too quickly. "No, I have not." He shot a glance at Magnus. "And neither has Magnus."

Clary decided not to argue him on this. "Okay, but when was the last time you guys did talk?"

Alec seemed to increasingly become uncomfortable. He fidgeted with his sweater, and his gaze dropped to his lap. "It's been a while."

"Alec, cut the crap," Isabelle snapped. "We know you're lying." Clary glanced at her, and was surprised to find Izzy almost in tears. Her hands shook as she pushed her wet black hair back. "Okay, fine," she said. "_Fine._ Clary, I think we got the answers we need."

Clary froze. "But, Isabelle–"

Alec jumped to his feet when Isabelle shot up and began to quickly make her way to the door. "Isabelle, wait! Wait! What do you mean–"

She whirled on him as her hand grasped the doorknob. "Do you think we're idiots?" She yelled. Isabelle was in hysterics, and Clary had a feeling it wasn't just about Simon anymore. "My own brother, keeping this from me. How fantastic. Now _I'm_ the one with brother troubles."

Clary flinched at that implication, and her movement didn't go unnoticed. Magnus stared at her worriedly, and through his eyes Clary saw him questioning if she was okay. She shrugged in response as Alec quickly answered his sister. "Isabelle, I don't know what you mean–"

"_How do you not know_?" She screamed. "You kept this from me, from Clary, and not a single part of you decided that keeping this from us was _wrong_?"

"Isabelle," said Alec calmly. He reached out and gripped her shoulders. "I have _absolutely no idea _what you're talking about."

She stared at him, her dark eyes hardened with anger and sadness. Clary felt numb – she couldn't register what was happening anymore. Already her heart felt like it was in her throat, her stomach dropping to the floor, her blood freezing to ice. Were Jace and Simon cheating? She didn't know anymore, and Alec's reactions weren't making any sense. "Is it true?" Isabelle finally choked out. "Jace and Simon, are they cheating on us?"

"_What_?" The shock in Alec was evident; he released her shoulders and actually took a step back. His ocean eyes quickly scanned her face, searching for any signs of a prank, any signs of her not being serious.

Even Magnus was a bit shocked. "Isabelle," he said, stepping forward. Isabelle, who had started to hug herself again, looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Just…_what_?"

"Well, are they?" she snapped.

"How could you _possibly_ assume that? Both of you?" Alec demanded, his glance switching between Isabelle and Clary. Clary swallowed and sunk a bit deeper into their leather couch, relief washing over her in waves. They weren't cheating. When they didn't answer, Alec continued. "Isabelle, maybe I can see this from you. I said _maybe_," he added, after her narrowed glance. "But Clary? _Really_?"

Anger started to boil deep in her veins. So Jace had been ignoring her for weeks now for nothing? "So what?" she snapped, rising from the couch. She saw everyone's expressions turn to one of surprise and felt more anger. "He hadn't talked to me, been sneaking behind my back, practically _ignored _me for _three weeks_, and for what? For space?" She was shaking now, but not for the same reason as before. Thoughts and scenarios ran wild in her mind. "God, if he wants to break up, he should tell me–"

"No! By the Angel, Clary, Jace definitely _does not want_ to break up with you!" Alec interrupted. He whirled to Isabelle. "Isabelle, Simon isn't cheating on you either. They both" – he looked at both girls – "do not want to break up."

"Then why?" Isabelle demanded. "Why the distance?"

"Because…" for the first time since they arrived, Alec looked uncomfortable. He shot a glance at Magnus, who shrugged in response. "Well…"

"Come on, then," Isabelle snapped. "Spit it out."

"I can't tell you." He finished lamely.

"Come on, Alec, I think it's time to go," said Magnus hastily, detaching himself from the wall. He grabbed Alec's arm and turned to Isabelle. "It hadn't been a pleasure," he said quickly, interrupting whatever she was going to say. "We do not want to hear from you soon, so please, move out of my way so we can leave. Then please show yourself out and do not return."

Isabelle huffed. "So that's it? Not even telling us why our boyfriends are causing trouble?"

Alec nodded. "Pretty much," But seeing his little sister's expression, he stopped himself from being dragged out by Magnus. "Look, I can't help you from your relationship problems. That's a personal problematic issue you two have to solve." He lifted Isabelle's fallen chin with his index finger. "But I can tell you this. Both of you." He turned around, briefly, to meet Clary's gaze. "Nothing is wrong. And all your questions will be answered tomorrow. Other than that, I can't say more. I'm sorry, I promised. Just," Magnus shoved him out the door, and Alec called out a final, "Wait." Then the door shut, and Magnus and Alec were gone.

Isabelle turned around to meet Clary's gaze. She let out a slow, deep breath, and reached for her coat on the bar chair. "Well," she huffed. "That didn't really answer much."

"But it did." Clary said, pushing herself off the couch. She crossed the living room and grabbed her coat and gloves off the peg. She slipped on her jacket and pulled on her leather gloves, watching Isabelle pull out her gloves from her coat pocket and slipping them on. "It answered a lot."

"Like what?" the other girl demanded.

"For one, they aren't cheating," Clary said lightly. She pulled her hair out from her coat collar and twirled it into a high bun. "And two, nothing is wrong."

"And three," Isabelle added, "We'll figure out why they're acting weird tomorrow."

"But why tomorrow?" Clary wondered aloud, throwing open the door. "Why not now?"

"Because they're boys," Isabelle answered, as if it were obvious. "And boys are dramatic."

Clary couldn't agree more.

* * *

><p><strong>I'll try to update soon, pinky promise. <strong>

**_~MJ_**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **Okay, so the last two chapters have kind of been drabble and fluff – chapters that creates the setting. This is the chapter that really matters, the chapter that officially starts the story. Think of the last two as prologue, and this as chapter one.**

**Something to clear up: This story takes place around the same time Lady Midnight comes out. If you don't know what that is, that's Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn's story – five years after the Mortal War. So while that story is taking place, this story is taking place. Remember, that story starts around 2012, so if you're thinking of this story in regards to our current time, this still took place like, three years ago. **

**By the way, this has a lot of Clace, a lot of Sizzy, and a lot of Malec.**

**Disclaimer: the pretty boy Jace sadly is not mine. Nor is anyone else. Except Amanda (you'll see *wink wonk*)**

***Warning* THIS IS A REALLY LONG CHAPTER. I typed it up and it ended up being like forty pages…lol.**

* * *

><p><em>Lonely days of uncertainty,<em>

_They disappear when you're near me,_

_When you're around my life's worthwhile,_

_And now I long to see you smile_

_-Big Star, "My life is right"_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

**Jace P.O.V**

She didn't come into his room last night.

In fact, he hadn't seen her all of yesterday.

Which is exactly why he had decided on jumping out of bed early, getting dressed, and leaving the Institute before anyone woke to get Clary some coffee and breakfast. If there's one thing to do to sucker her up, it's to get her coffee and food in the morning. And the good coffee, too – not "that cheap crap," she'd say, "the kind they sell in bars and grocery stores." Remembering her saying that to him, the way she had scrunched up her small nose, the way her freckles seemed to sparkle against her pale skin in the summer light, was enough to send his heart beating and to quicken his pace.

Tendrils of red and flashes of green caught at his eye as he made his way down the street to the nearby coffee shop. The storm from yesterday had dwindled rapidly through the restless night; though evidence from its stay lay palpable throughout Saint Avenue in regards to the slick ice roads and the collected snowflakes on the red bricks of surrounding buildings. The air remained cool and burned the throat when breathed in.

Jace Herondale never missed his Heavenly Fire more than the first few winters after losing his ability. With his hands stuffed deep into his pockets (he never bothered when it came to gloves), he leisurely strolled and shouldered his way through the buzzing crowds, pointedly ignoring the suggestive looks on-looking girls shot at him.

Reaching the small café, he yanked open the door hurriedly and rushed inside. Almost instantly warmth spread through him, and almost smiling he crossed to the counter and leaned against it. He looked around the café. It was mostly empty, with an elderly couple sitting in the corner and a girl typing furiously on a laptop occupying the table near the back. He sighed in contempt, breathing in the silence he never heard anymore. A few seconds later the barista arrived from the kitchen doors, brown hair falling loose of her sloppy bun. "Hello," she said in a rush, quickly heading around the counter to the register. "How may I help – oh…" she trailed off, staring at him with massive brown eyes.

Jace cocked an eyebrow at her sudden exclamation. He glanced down at her as if checking her out, hoping the gesture would give him a surprise discount. She was pretty, he supposed, with her tan skin and dark hair and eyes, and this contrasted well with her teal uniform, but it wasn't like it mattered. A low blush bloomed on her cheekbones as she realized he was staring at her, and she quickly casted her gaze down to the register. "What would you like?" she squeaked.

He fully leaned against the counter, staring up at the menu above her. He knew what he was doing, and he knew how this was probably affecting the employee, but he didn't care. "Hmm," he murmured thoughtfully, though he already knew what he wanted. The worker blushed furiously and busied herself with the register. After a moment Jace pushed himself off the counter. "I'd like six coffees," he said, mentally counting off his fingers, "four with room for crème, make one frozen, and the last completely black."

The barista – Amanda, her name tag read – quickly typed in his order on the cash register. She glanced up at him through her hair and lashes. A failed attempt at seduction, he realized. "Is that all?" she asked huskily.

He locked his jaw to suppress an eye roll. "I'll have a chocolate éclair," he said, naming one of Clary's favorite pastries, "and about a dozen blueberry croissants." He thought for a moment. "That's all."

Amanda seemed a bit upset as she punched in his order with a small frown forming on her lips. If Jace didn't know any better he'd say she was pouting. "Alright," she sighed. "That'll be seventy five dollars." As Jace handed over the money, she added, "The pastries will take a minute to bake. Will that be okay?" But before he could answer, she had already shoved in his money into the register and hurried back to the kitchen.

He sighed and took a nearby seat, whipping out his phone. _No New Messages_, his phone read. Of course. Why would he expect anything different? Clary was stubborn – she wouldn't check if he was okay. The thought brought anger, but he quickly repressed it. After all, it was he who kept all the distance between them.

He remembered how surprised he had been when Magnus and Alec came bursting through the Institute doors and into the library, yelling about how both he and Simon were major screw-ups, and how our plans for "small, inconspicuous space" had completely backfired.

"What?" he had asked the two breathless men, who had ran from their apartment all the way to the Institute.

Alec huffed for air. "You idiot," he gasped. "Clary and Isabelle both think you and Simon were cheating on them." He leaned down on his knees and breathed heavily. "By the Angel, I need to do more cardio training."

Jace, while disregarding the book in his lap, had shot out of the armchair in surprise. The book fell to the floor in a loud _clump_. "They said so?" he asked in disbelief. Alec nodded, and Jace viciously yanked his hair; the pain sharpened his mind. "Damn it," he muttered, beginning to pace the sitting area of the library. "Fucking _damn it_." He stopped his mad stride as a thought occurred. "They don't still think that, do they?"

Alec began to fidget as Magnus, who had been observing this coolly, stepped in. "No," he had said. "I had casted a spell on them to lose any aspect of suspicion under my breath. Those two, they didn't even notice." He smirked.

Jace narrowed his eyes at him. "That wears off, right?"

Magnus inspected his nails with disinterest. "Eventually."

Alec shot Magnus a tiny glare as he turned back to Jace. "You better do something for Clary before tomorrow," he had scolded. "Or else her answer may be affected. Tell Simon the same thing." He added while giving him a pointed glare, and Jace was reminded of how many times Maryse had shot him the same look.

He had held up his hands in surrender. "Will do," he said.

But he never got the chance to.

Clary hadn't been to see him all of yesterday, and only briefly the day before. The days before that didn't look much better. There has never been so much distance between themselves in years – probably ever since finding out they were siblings. The thought brought on a heart ache, and his thoughts were briefly interrupted by the barista calling out his name.

"Jace – your order's ready!"

He frowned as he got up and headed back over to the counter. "Funny," he said, taking the bag of pastries and the tray filled with coffee, "I don't remember giving you my name."

"That's because you didn't," she replied, ripping off his recipe from the cashier. She offered it to him, but Jace backed off. She sighed. "You don't have to worry." Amanda said, and as Jace stared at her, he noticed a change happening in her eyes. The brown began to bloom to an unnatural green, like the color of antifreeze or acid, and her pupil dilated to such a small speck it was like it was never even there.

He squinted at her. "So, what?" he demanded, realizing her face was caked with powerful glamor. "Warlocks are watching me now? What are you, annoying cherubs?"

"Not just you," she laughed, dropping a wink. "And no, I'm not telling you what that means." Amanda waved the recipe in front of him again. "Look, are you going to take it or not?"

With brief hesitation he grabbed the small slip of paper and stuffed it into his pockets. He was glad the civilians around them hadn't noticed the small phenomenon that had just happened. Already her eyes were fading rapidly into the same, dull color of mud brown. As he turned to the door, he heard the warlock – who may or may not be Amanda – yell after him, "See you later, _Jace Herondale_."

He wasn't going to lie – the warlock freaked him out a bit.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

**Clary's P.O.V**

Waking up was hell.

After they left the apartment, Isabelle had demanded they do something fun together, since they never seem to hang out alone. Clary didn't argue on this. Technically, this was the most alone time they had in a long time. "Let's go to the hottest club in Brooklyn," she had suddenly exclaimed, stopping mid-stomp down the blanketed street of powdery snow. Clary stopped with her and slowly met her gaze to see if she was kidding. Apparently, she wasn't.

"Isabelle," she sighed, raking a hand through her wet coils of thick hair. "It's cold, and we aren't even properly dressed for a nightclub." She gestured to her black leggings (which had a small tear by the knee) and a dark gray, baggy sweater. She decided to not argue on what Isabelle was wearing, since her outfit consisted of a black leather sheath dress and sheer black tights. "I'm dressed like I just dove into a clothes trashcan behind a Walmart. And besides, it's only seven o'clock."

Isabelle waved this away. "You look hipster," she declared. "That's fashionable."

"Barely," Clary had muttered, but even her sour mood didn't stop Isabelle from dragging her into the nearest club, Europea. Though being very early, walking in felt light walking into a disco ball – strobe and neon lights met their vision, along with the bitter air of alcohol, sweat from nearby dancers, and something else that smelled suspiciously of weed. Isabelle had dragged her off to the bar, and the night faded away after that.

A pounding head ache cracked through her skull as she strained to remember last night. _Damn_, she thought. _Hangover_. Clary rolled over in bed to try to get back to sleep, when her back met with something hard and warm. _Probably Jace_, she thought with wonder, but that thought was instantly shattered when dark, black hair, not gold like Jace's but the color of ink, met her curious gaze.

She screamed and hopped off the bed, backing up until her back met with the wall. _Fuck,_ she thought rapidly_. Oh fuck, what did I do? Did I cheat on Jace? This isn't my bedroom, nor his bedroom. Oh, God. Am I even in the Institute? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…_

"Clary?" someone moaned from the bed. A feminine voice.

_Isabelle. _Clary's racing heart immediately slowed with overwhelming relief. It was Isabelle. Just Isabelle. And her suspicions of last night faded as Isabelle clapped her hands and light illuminated Isabelle's room. Clary nearly gasped with the relief.

"Clary!" Isabelle snapped, sitting up. "What the _hell_? Have you ever heard of beauty sleep? God, what are you, an alarm clock? That shriek of yours probably woke half the Institute!"

Clary closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool wall. "Sorry," she huffed, and winced at her croaky voice. "I thought I did something I would've regretted last night."

Isabelle looked confused at first, but instantly started to smirk. "How do you know we didn't do something?" she asked huskily, sending her a wink.

Clary groaned as embarrassment flooded into her cheeks. "Please don't. I already nearly had a heart attack with the thought."

Isabelle reeled back, hurt evident across her face. "You wouldn't hook up with me? Even if it was just one night?" As Clary continued to stare at her blankly, Isabelle rolled her eyes and tossed back her smooth ink hair. "Yeesh."

"You know what I mean," she said, when she heard her phone buzz. Curious, Clary bent down to her boot (she slept in her clothes from last night) and yanked her phone out. Simon texted her, with the message, "dinner at institute. tell Isabelle." Clary glanced up at Isabelle, who had sunk back into bed. "Simon sent me a text," she said, and Isabelle shot up with interest. "It said that there was a dinner here tonight."

"Hmph," Isabelle said. She cocked an eyebrow. "Mom never said anything about a dinner."

Clary shrugged and stuffed her phone back into her boot. She felt her stomach grumble as she quickly threw her hair up into a sloppy bun. "Breakfast first," she decided out loud, and quickly grabbed her stele off of Isabelle's dresser. Hangovers are a bitch without runes. "Questions later."

After a few minutes of trying to rub off all evidence of ever heading out to a club, the two girls made their way down the hall, giggling at some resurfacing memories in the club.

"I never knew I could down shots like that," Clary mused as Isabelle burst out laughing.

"Once a party animal, always a party animal," she said, and sent Clary a wink. "I should take you clubbing more often."

"No time soon," Clary quickly reassured, wincing at a throb in her head. "Too hung-over at the moment."

"I wouldn't be surprised if we both are." They immediately hushed their conversation as they entered the kitchen, where sat the sleepy Alec and Simon, an eccentric (like always) Magnus, and Jace, who had an air of the streets around him. Clary avoided his gaze as she sat down at the table next to bed-mused Simon.

She noticed with some hilarity that he was sleeping on his raised hand, propped up on the table. Smirking, she quickly swiped his arm off and laughed as he banged his head on the table. "Wha–?" he began as he shot up, and instantly broke off as he noticed Clary laughing next to him. He glared at her. "Funny, Fray."

She was still chuckling even as she pressed a hand against her mouth. "Maybe you should try this thing called sleep. I hear it's simply riveting."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and Clary felt everyone's gaze slide off them with disinterest. Everyone's gaze except one. "You wouldn't sleep either if you had to constantly listen to two girls above constantly laugh and stomp around." He paused as Clary blushed furiously, dropping her gaze to the table. "What did you and Isabelle even do last night, anyway?"

Magnus piped up. "Clubbing, from the looks of it," he declared, squinting at the half-dressed Isabelle, who was leaning against the counter next to Jace. Isabelle glared at him.

"What were you doing at a club?" Alec demanded. "Especially without weapons? _Isabelle_–"

"Of course I had weapons," she interrupted, and instantly seemed to regret it as everyone's eyebrows rose. Clary almost smacked herself in the face. Good going, Iz. Isabelle sighed dramatically. "Okay, fine! We went to a bar for a few drinks and to dance! What's so bad about that?"

"Oh, I almost forgot," Jace suddenly exclaimed, and Clary watched as he detached himself off the side of the counter and ruffled through the takeout bag. He pulled out something wrapped up and grabbed a Styrofoam cup off the nearly-empty cardboard tray and headed over to her. Clary's heart raced as he leaned over her and carefully placed the two things in front of her. She felt his warmth radiate on her, and instantly felt its cooling loss as he pulled back – but not without kissing her lightly on the cheek.

She blushed as Simon and Magnus whistled under their breath mockingly, and steadily tried to ignore them as she turned in her seat to look up at Jace for the first time in two days. She thought his gaze on her would seem different – colder, maybe – but this was quickly shot down as she saw only love and adoration reflect in his golden eyes.

But the moment was instantly shattered as he turned away and walked leisurely out the kitchen, without a single word or glance to anyone. She saw Simon cock an eyebrow in the corner of her eye, but blocked out whatever smart comment he made as she abandoned her seat with her hot food and quickly followed Jace. She got what the scene meant now – it was a reminder of how they first met: Her, abandoning Simon and her coffee to follow him.

She followed him for the same reasons she did last time: Confusion, anxiety for the future, and, most of all, anger. Anger at him, at his actions, at what he had said, at what he had lied about (or was going to). Anger fueled her temper as she rounded the corner from the kitchen and into the hallway, an angry buzzing blocking whatever sarcastic comments were probably flying out of both Magnus and Simons' mouths.

It wasn't hard finding him, just like it wasn't hard finding him the very first time. He was leaning on the wall right outside, head bent into his phone, and against her will she felt her heart flutter when he lifted his head. She noticed instantly his demeanor had changed. Dark bags hung low under his eyes like charcoaled crescents embedded into his tight, hollowed skin. His golden eyes, which were usually so luminous, were dimmed to a light honey-brown. She tried so desperately to not care, but deep in her gut, she did. He pocketed his phone when he saw her, and she almost wished he didn't, that'd he have something to give half his attention to.

But knowing Jace, whenever it was just her and him, all attention was set on her. The corner of his lips quirked up. "Have fun last night?"

The question was so blunt she blinked. "I – what?"

"Last night," he repeated patiently, reaching out and tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The gesture made her shudder, and she nearly leaned into his lingering fingers if it weren't for the fact she was pissed. "Was it fun?"

Clary's thoughts of being angry scrambled into contentment as Jace began stroking her cheek lightly. "I – uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess."

"Izzy told me you woke up with a massive headache," he continued, almost accusingly. But his light smile and soft voice told her otherwise. "Let me guess–" his hand dropped suddenly to her chin, and he forced her attention up to him –"hung-over?"

Clary gulped, almost lost in his quickly blazing golden eyes that were studying her with a loving interest. "Yeah." She forgot she was mad at him as his eyes landed on her lips, and stayed there. She forgot they were in the midst of a 'fight' as he slowly closed his eyes, and she did the same. She forgot of the distance, of the sneaking around, of the questions she could not ask, as he brought his lips down, lightly but firm, over her own. The only thing on her mind was Jace, _her_ Jace, the broken, sarcastic boy she loved more than anything in the world. She sighed into the kiss as he carefully slid his mouth over hers, and moaned as he began nipping at her bottom lip, begging for entrance.

Like a lighted match falling on gasoline, their kiss grew more heated. Her hands twined up around his neck, grasping and pulling at his hair, grinning as he groaned sexily against her mouth. She had taken control of their kiss, and took no time to lick at his bottom lip and bite it, to tug and yank at his hair, to rub her leg up his own. She felt him coming apart under her hands as he started to shiver and his heartbeat starting to pound away in her ears like a drum.

Jace growled as he tried to take it back. Roughly he fully wrapped his arms around her waist and slammed her against the wall, breaking their kiss to nip down her neck and suck at her soft skin. She gasped and clutched at him tighter; she tilted her head to give him more access to skin, almost subconsciously. He chuckled as he sucked, bit, and licked one spot on her neck, swallowing her rapid pulse, and Clary knew there was going to be a dark mark on her skin. She was whimpering his name as he moved his trail of fire back up her neck to her jawline, never breaking contact with his lips.

In between kisses, he whispered, "I'm sorry," against her skin.

She was moaning softly as he slowly trailed his lips up her soft skin and back to her parted lips. "For what – oh," her words were swallowed as Jace kissed her hard, his muscular body pressing her harder against the wall. She felt him crush her against his chest, felt his fingertips gripping her waist tight enough to leave a bruise. She gasped as he raked his hands up from her waist and caught her face, and with numbing force he pressed her face harder against his, lips smashing together.

"For" – he pressed a hard and quick kiss against her lips – "everything" – he mumbled this as he caught another kiss – "that made you"– several more kisses that made her knees shake– "go to that" – countless more kisses that made her forget he even spoke at all – "damn bar."

She was so lost in the kisses, the heavy breathing, the intense pressure, the rapid pulse of his heart, that it took everything in her self-control to lightly push him away and burry her face in his chest. She felt him sigh in an accepted disappointment as his hands dropped to her waist, holding her light enough to send shivers down her spine. She bit back a smile as she felt his head drop on her shoulder, his curling hair tickling her cheek. Her fingers slipped through his fine strands, and lightly she stroked through his golden hair. They stood there in silence for a few moments, wrapped up in each other comfortably, their heavy breathing mingling together. She felt him press light kisses on her shoulder.

"Jace," she sighed, trying to keep focus on reality. "You're not getting out of this by kissing me."

She felt him chuckle against her skin. "I know."

"Then you know you better come up with a damn good excuse by dinner, right?"

"Trust me," he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze with a burning sincerity. "My reasons aren't an excuse – they were an obligation."

"An obligation?" she repeated. "Set by whom?"

"Well, technically speaking, the Clave," he said, and quickly continued as her eyebrows skyrocketed. "But my actions were all my fault."

She stroked his cheek lightly. "You're not going to tell me what this is about now, are you?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Until dinner, my Clarissa."

"_Ohh_," she exclaimed, realization setting in. "So that's what this surprise dinner is about." Her head tilted to look up at him better. "You planned dinner, didn't you?"

"Well, yes," he said, shrugging lightly. "And so did Simon. And Alec. We all have news to share, and they're all shockingly similar."

"Really…" Clary trailed off thoughtfully, thinking what all the guys have an in common. A picture wouldn't come.

He smiled down at her and pressed a light kiss against her nose. "I ran out to buy you coffee and a pastry, and you probably didn't even touch it, did you?"

It was the last thing she expected him to say. Drawing back, she looked up at him in a bit of bewildered shock. "You can't possibly be mad at me for _that_, right?"

"I may not be mad," said Jace, "but it does prick my ego slightly. Many girls would _love_ personal delivery by yours truly." He sent her a wink in emphasis.

She rolled her eyes. "Just shut up and hold me," she said, and added quickly, "_quietly_."

He did just that.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

By the time dinner rolled around, Alec and Jace prepared the large oak table in a decorative manor, making sure there were exactly the right amount of dining chairs and their fanciest plates and silverware; Magnus made sure both Clary and Isabelle were dressed up and fixed beautifully; and Simon, poor Simon, was the one who had to run to get the dinner from Taki's, ordering everything from fancy lasagna, garlic bread, creamy fettuccini alfredo pasta, the best of red wine, spinach manicottis, and so much more fancy Italian foods Simon nearly collapsed when he came back into the Institute. Quickly, while the girls were still away, they carefully displayed the food in the middle of the table and poured the red wine in each cordial glass set.

Then all the guys dressed into their nicest wear, helping each other fix their ties and straighten their neatly pressed shirts. In one of the sparkling spoons Jace ruffled his hair messily while Simon smoothed his hair down in another spoon. When Alec walked in on them doing this, he snorted. "Straight people," he muttered, loud enough for both the guys could hear, "touching their damn hair more than anything else."

"Gay people," Jace announced, lowering his spoon onto the table, "touching their boyfriend more than anything else." He waggled his eyebrows over at Alec, who blushed.

Simon, who had also lowered his spoon, rose his eyebrows. "Where is everyone?" he wondered aloud.

"Why, I'm right here!" yelled a voice at the doorway. Whirling, everyone turned to see Magnus, wearing a bright blue suit, standing in the doorway. He frowned at Simon. "That was rather rude."

"Move over, glittery blueberry," someone snarled behind Magnus, and the tone of the person picked up Simon's rapid heartbeat. Magnus smirked over at his curious gaze mockingly as he side-stepped into the dining room over to Alec, revealing the mystery girl. Simon's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Isabelle.

Isabelle Lightwood. Words cannot simply express how well she looked in her tight, white cocktail dress, her golden illusion neckline lacing down her arms like vines of sunlight twiddling down to earth. Her dark, ink black hair lay in flawless waves down to her waistline as they framed her sharp, angular face; her mysteriously dark eyes dominant underneath her smoky eye makeup. Her face lit up when she saw him, creating an indomitable glow underneath her beautiful appearance like streaks of light through cracked walls. Smiling widely, she rushed over to him in her high heels and hugged him tightly. Simon instantly responded, breathing in the aura Isabelle seems to carry around everywhere she goes.

"You look great," she whispered in his ear, and he repressed a shudder.

"I look like nothing compared to you," he replied truthfully. "God, you're so beautiful, Isabelle."

She pulled away from him, smiling widely. "The only reason I'm not clawing at your face," she said casually, "is because Clary somehow managed to convince me you have good intentions."

Simon quickly nodded. "I do," he said. "And there is a reason for everyone dressing up so nice, I promise."

"You better," she said playfully, her smile twisting into a smirk. "I saw you carrying in twenty takeout bags from Taki's."

Simon grinned sheepishly, and they both hovered around the table, going deep into conversation.

~o~

Jace stood between Alec and Magnus, anxiously glancing at the doorway. Where was Clary? Isabelle had already come in, looking (as usual) stunning. But he won't be fully satisfied until the love of his life was in his arms – or sight, from the looks of her delay.

As if noticing his worried glimpses, Magnus spoke up. "She's coming," he said, a weird glint in his eye. "She had to get something from her room."

Jace cocked an eyebrow, his pulse quickening at the mention of her soon arrival. "Which is…?"

His question caught in his throat as another Lightwood came in – a Lightwood he hadn't seen in months: Maryse Lightwood.

About a year after the War and her divorce, Maryse had moved out of the Institute and into the Enclave in the city, donating the place to the heir: Alec. No one knows Alec doesn't live there anymore except for Maryse, Jace, Isabelle, Clary, Simon, Magnus, Jocelyn, and Luke. For years now she only had contact with either Isabelle and Alec, and occasionally himself. No one else – not even Robert, for what he heard. Jace hadn't heard from Robert since the end of the War.

Maryse hushed the room as she crossed the dining room, inspecting the party forming in front of her. She wore a simple black gown, pooling around her feet in a black puddle. She changed a lot since Jace had last seen her. Her ink black hair greyed greatly from age, and prominent wrinkles cracked her striking facial features around the corner of her dark blue eyes and thinned pink lips. She studied them all coolly before being attacked with hugs from her two twenty-year-old children. "Mom!" Isabelle yelled in surprise, her arms wrapping around the older woman's slender figure. Alec joined the hug party, and Jace, Simon, and Magnus stayed away awkwardly.

When Maryse smiled at Jace, he saw it okay to join the hugging party. After all, he had been her son since he was ten years old. As Isabelle and Alec detached themselves from Maryse, he leaned in for a tight hug, and smiled as he felt the tightness returned. She pulled away after a moment and held him at arm's length. "Oh, Jace," she whispered. "You're so handsome."

"Always have been," he replied instantly, and grinned as she laughed quietly.

"I hope we're not interrupting something," another voice spoke behind them.

Maryse released Jace long enough for him to see Jocelyn and Luke walk hand-in-hand through the dining room doors, both dressed formally. Luke, probably with a lot of begging on Jocelyn's part, wore a neat shirt and grey blazer, matching Jocelyn's grey, simple wrap dress. Maryse greeted them both politely, and they responded back just as polite. Next person to rush over to greet them was Magnus, who lightly hugged Jocelyn and shook Luke's hand.

After Magnus retreated, Jace realized that as a good boyfriend of their daughter, he needed to greet them next. Carefully he walked up to Clary's parents, who were both talking to Simon. "I don't think I've ever seen you look so neat," Jocelyn gushed, causing Simon to redden slightly.

"Aw, don't make fun of him," said Luke, lightly clapping Simon on the shoulder. "He looks well groomed."

"Am I interrupting?" Jace asked uncertainly, walking up to them.

Luke and Jocelyn turned to him, and to his relief, they smiled warmly. "Jace!" Luke greeted, his smile welcoming. He outstretched his hand, which Jace gladly shook.

Jocelyn was the real challenge. She scanned him head to toe, and, as if satisfied with what she found, smiled widely. "It's so great to see you, Jace," she said, and to his extreme surprise, she drew him up in a quick hug. After releasing him, she quickly asked, "Where's Clary?"

Jace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "She was supposed to be down by now…"

A loud snap issued from the doorway of the dining room, followed by an "aw, shit!" Jace turned eagerly to the doorway, and felt his heart slow to an immediate stop.

Clarissa Adele Fairchild stood in the doorway in her full angelic glory, wrapped in an elegant black halter dress with a sweetheart illusion neckline that wrapped around her shoulders. Her usually messy red curls were now fixed into beautiful tendrils that reminded him of a snowflake's path cascading down to earth – twirling, twisting, and ending in one last elegant swirl. Her green eyes shone through her light makeup, and he saw with a rapidly increasing heartbeat as they settled on him, and lit up to an exceptional fire. Around her waist was a pattern of embedded golden vines, and where the dress hung loose sparked with the embers of golden thread.

She leaned against the doorway, holding a single high heel – its black silhouette completely snapped in half. Clary stared down at it in disbelief.

Everyone was staring at the oblivious Clary, and no one felt the nerve to speak – well, no one except one.

Isabelle.

"Did you _seriously_ just _break_ my _heel_?"

Clary glanced up worriedly and met the cold, hard gaze of Isabelle. "I swear," she began quickly. "I was just walking when it snapped…" Seeing the end of this conversation ending terribly, Clary quickly recovered. "I'm blaming gravity."

"Really?" Isabelle's voice dripped sarcasm. "Gravity is the one to blame?" She stepped toward Clary intimidatingly, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "Are you sure about that?"

"Er," Clary took a step back. "No…?"

Before Isabelle could take this farther, Jace quickly recovered from shock and rushed over to his girlfriend in distress. She smiled up at him, causing the blood in his veins to pound, but he ignored it. "Hey, Jace," she said.

Quickly he drew her into a light hug, careful to not mess up her delicate looks. Even if Isabelle is pissed off at Clary, she wouldn't hesitate to murder Jace for screwing up Clary's look which, undoubtedly, probably took a while. Releasing her, he quickly pecked her on the lips and bent down to collect her good heel off her foot. Straightening, he plucked the heel out of her hand and quietly threw them behind a wooden bench against the wall, thankful everyone lost interest in the dramatic scene.

When he turned back to her, he saw her smiling at him wistfully. "What?"

She shook her head, that bright smile and gleam in her eye remaining. "Nothing," she said, and eyed him, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "You look nice."

He snorted. "Nothing," he said, taking her hands, "will look as good as you do right now. Of course," he added, right after she smiled broadly, "I'd much rather see you in nothing, but we don't always get what we want–"

"_Jace!_" She interrupted rudely, but she was still grinning. "We're around people."

He shrugged. "Hadn't stopped us before, so I don't see how it would now."

"Pretty sure because _this_ time," someone said at Clary's elbow, "people can see you, and judge you."

Clary whirled on her heels and saw Simon grinning at them, his once smoothed-down hair now slightly ruffled. "Simon!" she exclaimed, looking at him up and down. "Okay…" she said while stepping back. "Who forced you into a suit?"

His grin turned to one of mockery. "Very funny, Fray," he said, and then scanned what she was wearing. He squinted at her dress as if confused. "No, this can't be…" his voice trailed off in a state of shock. He met her gaze with surprise lit in his eyes. "Clary, _in a dress_?" He shook his head. "Nope, the scene is too absurd. I must be dreaming."

She rolled her eyes as Simon burst out laughing. "Funny," she snipped sarcastically. "You should try to actually make me laugh next time, just for advice."

"Advice?" Isabelle asked, making her way to them. "What kind of advice?" Her curious gaze immediately hardened when they fell on Clary, who swallowed heavily.

"It's advice to be a comedian," answered Jace lazily. "Though I don't know why she'd bother, since that dream could never be fulfilled."

"Don't you have a dinner to host?" Simon snapped.

"Don't _we_," corrected Jace, before the realization hit. His eyes widened. "Oh, crap."

In a mad rush both Simon and Jace collected everyone over to the dining table, where the food had grown slightly cold. At the head of the table sat Maryse, and on both her sides were Alec and Isabelle, who then sat with their dates – Magnus and Simon. Next to Magnus sat Luke, and beside him sat Jocelyn. Directly across from Jocelyn on the other side of the table was Clary, and, of course, next to Clary was Jace, who was sitting next to Simon. They quickly filled their plates with the delicious food of takeout Italian and expensive red wine that Simon had 'accidentally' stolen (no one but he and Jace knew of this). They all ate in a peaceful, comfortable silence, until most of the food had been swiped clean off the serving trays.

Jace, seeing everyone slowly finish as a cue to begin, stood up, and Simon, getting his lead of direction, stood up along with him. Magnus nudged Alec hard in the side before he finally noticed the other two, and quickly stood up as well. Soon enough all eyes were on them in a matter of seconds, and Jace repressed the idea of clanging his spoon against his glass in a deflating sense of disappointment. He quickly got over it, though, as he realized what he had prepared for a month now all led up to this moment.

Was he a bit nervous? He'd be lying if he said there wasn't a slight tremor in his hands.

"So I guess you're all wondering why we'd gathered you here today," Simon began, and Jace stomped hard on his foot to keep him quiet.

"What he means," he quickly continued as Simon glared at him, "is that there's a reason for our formal gathering today." In the corner of his eye he noticed Clary sending him inquiring looks, and it took everything in him to not spill it all out in a quick rush to satisfy her curiosity. "The three of us – Alec, Simon, and I – all received an important request about one month ago. This request offered similar things and demanded the same fate for the three of us."

A moment of thick silence molded around them as Alec took his time to gather his thoughts and continue. "To put it simply," he said, sending Jace a look, "we're leaving. All three of us. And we don't plan on return."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, I know – it's a crappy ending. **

**Especially since you all probably already know where this is heading. **

**But hey, doesn't hurt to draw out suspense, right?**

**Just kidding. The real reason I cut the chapter is because of its crazy length. Honestly, this chapter was almost **_**thirty five**_** pages on my computer. That's crazy long! It's longer than both my previous chapters and a bonus scene I'm going to reveal much later, **_**combined**_**! I know, it's crazy, and I might just trim it down further after this update. I'm going to update next either this Saturday/Sunday, or next Wednesday. No in-between. **

**Alright, I got to go. See you next time!  
><strong>

**~MJ**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Mostly everything in this chapter isn't even mine tbh... it belongs to the one and only Cassandra Clare, the genius whom I would gladly sell my soul to. **

* * *

><p>I believe in memories<br>They look so, so pretty when I sleep  
>Hey now, and when I wake up,<br>You look so pretty sleeping next to me  
>But there is not enough time,<br>And there is no, no song I could sing  
>And there is no combination of words I could say<br>But I will still tell you one thing  
>We're better together.<p>

-Jack Johnson, "Better Together"

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

**Clary's P.O.V**

No words could express how betrayed she felt as Alec's words escaped his lips. No words could describe the awful, bitter taste that erupted in her mouth, the ice-cold feeling of trailing fingers singing through her veins with a frostiness that left her shivering. No words could begin to grasp just how much she wanted to grab a nearby plate and smash it against her goddamned boyfriend, Jace, who remained perfectly emotionless as Alec spoke, as if he had expected this. As if he had known of this. Her aching heart pounded painfully, and it was difficult to even think, let alone speak. It's a good thing she didn't speak first, as someone else, someone colder, more stubborn, harsher, spoke up for her, voicing the very thought pounding through her skull like her earlier hangover.

"Leaving?" Mayris broke through the thick silence by speaking first, repeating her eldest son in socked bewilderment. "What do you mean, you're leaving?"

Alec's blue eyes darted around the dining room in an anxious manner before answering. "The Clave invited me and Jace into the NA–"

"_What_?" All three of the eldest adults spoke in union, staring between Alec and Jace in disbelief.

Luke recovered first, though he still remained shocked to the core. "The Nephilim Assemblage," he repeated. "Am I correct?"

Before either the guys could answer, Clary spoke up, the ice thawing with the bubbling heat of rising anger. "What the _hell _is the NA?"

"It means," Magnus explained patiently, probably noting her obvious change in mood and behavior, "Nephilim Assemblage. They're the elite Shadowhunters who travel around the world to wipe out strong areas of heavy demonic activity."

She whirled on Jace angrily, her hands beginning to shake. Who in the hell gave this boy the goddamned _right_–"Why didn't you _tell me_?"

"The _NA_?!" Isabelle interrupted with a shriek, standing up along with the three boys. She slammed her fist on the table, knocking her wine glass and all the contents it held over onto the table. She didn't even seem to notice it as she glared hard daggers over at her two brothers. "Alec and Jace, _explain yourselves_."

Before Alec or Jace could answer, Clary broke in again. "How long have you guys been keeping this from us?"

The whole room erupted into fits of arguments, shouting, and accusations. Jace slammed his palm on the oak table several times before everyone quieted down. "Look," he began, "we'll answer all your questions if you guys calm down. And one at a time," he added, staring at Clary pointedly. She made a noise in between one of a snort and a scoff. "Please."

Maryse went first. "You do realize," she said, "the NA isn't a part time job. It's full induction, and it's difficult to back out of."

"Yes," answered Alec. "We knew that." He shot Jace a guarded look, which Jace instantly returned.

"And," she continued, "you'll have to move to Idris."

Clary's heart froze in her chest at her words. Jace, leaving her to Idris permanently? Her heart felt as though it was beginning to crack and shatter as she watched Jace bite his lip and nod. "That had crossed our minds," he answered. "And we've been planning out arrangements _for about a month_." He gave Clary another look, as if she was supposed to get something out of that. All it did was bring her a higher concentration of confusion and more heartbreaking sadness, the anger and betrayal dwindling rapidly along with her energy.

Luke spoke next, seeing it as a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity. "Have you two realized now that since you're no longer teenagers, moving to Idris means you have to either live in your respected Shadowhunter manors or buy a house, right?"

Once again another dark, guarded look passed between both the boys' expressions. "Yes," said Jace slowly. "We've already planned this ahead of time."

Finally, as the constant flow of questions passed from the older adults to the younger ones, Clary found her chance to question Jace herself. As Luke had his latest question answered, she quickly spoke up. "Jace," she said softly, and instantly he turned to her, his golden eyes smirking with confidence and pride. The way he had begun to stand taller as he answered each question correctly gave a pang deep in her heart. He had planned everything out for so long, yet he forgot about one thing. She bit her lip. "What about us?"

The room hushed at her whispered words, and conversation began again in awkward tones. She watched as he gnawed the inside of his lip, and looked away from her. She felt tears almost form as she thought he turned away from dawning realization, but reeled back in shock as she realized his attention was now set on Jocelyn and Luke. "I've realized that also," he said carefully, and she noticed him gripping the edge of the table harshly.

Jocelyn narrowed his eyes at him as Luke merely cocked an eyebrow. She felt her own heart begin to flutter. If Jace was this nervous, shouldn't she be, too? "Jocelyn and Luke," he began, still standing. At the other end of the table Alec, who had sat down, was now being questioned by Isabelle and Mayrse; Clary had tuned them out a long time ago, finding this end of the conversation much more interesting.

"I love your daughter," said Jace, earning him both curious and suspicious expressions from her parents. "I've been in love with her for five years." He swallowed thickly. "I hope you both now realize the dilemma I've been faced with recently. Turning down an honor such as NA is almost a disgrace to the name. But there's no way I would take up the offer if I knew I was intentionally leaving Clary behind." He shot Clary a quick glance; his golden eyes ignited into an indomitable fire with emotions that spoke of solace, of adoration, of so much love, that her heart felt like it would shatter from exhilaration.

"So I ask of this," he said, turning his attention back on her parents. It took everything in Clary to not attack him right then and there with love. "Will you grant permission for the love of my life to live with me, in Idris?"

Her heart froze to a stop, time stilling around her in a blurry haze. She watched as Jocelyn opened her mouth to spit a retort, watched as Luke's eyes widened, watched as everyone around them gave their scene curious glances. Jace wants her to come with him? To live with him? She thought of the last time she visited Idris, remembering how Jace had brought her to the Herondale manor and commented something about them living there. She never knew that time would come so soon, and impact her so hard. She felt something warm and soft wrap around her hand; without even glancing down she knew what it was – Jace, his hand lightly grasping her own. It was his warmth that sped up her reality.

"…across the world!" Jocelyn was fuming in a rush, her cheeks slightly inflamed – from anger or from the alcohol, Clary never really knew. She cooled down as Luke wrapped his arm around her waist, more to restrain her than anything.

"Jace," Luke spoke up quickly. "This is quite a proposition you've offered."

"That has come to my realization," he said smoothly. "Already I've managed to come into contact with many people living in Idris." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded, thick packet, and when he smoothed out the pages, the print was so tiny Clary had first assumed the page had black lines down the page. As he flipped through each page he explained what he had been granted permission of.

"These few pages grants me full-time authorization of excessive Portal use without the permission and notification of the Guard…" Luke and Clary chuckled at that, knowing just how many times she had broken the Law about Portaling in Idris. Jocelyn, however, did not seem to find this conversation very amusing – she held a sour expression and a narrowed stare on the packet of papers, as if it would suddenly jump up and strike everyone.

Everyone around the table grew interested in their conversation after Jace had pulled out the packet. Maryse was half-standing in her chair, leaning over the table to get a better look.

Jace shuffled through more of the pages, muttering, "These are rules, more rules, boring explanations about rules, blah, blah, blah," before finally stopping at a particular page. He looked up at them with a tiny smirk. "Just in case, I've been granted permission for the allowance of electronic devices such as individual cellphones for the six of us, but that's it."

"The six of us?" Luke repeated, staring at Jace questionably. "Who's the other four?"

"Well, there's me, Alec, and Magnus," said Jace, holding up three fingers. "And if Clary is permitted to go, that's already four." He held up another finger. "And then there's Simon–"

Simon cut him off by coughing loudly. Clary glanced up at him, and quickly looked back as he shot Jace a vicious glare.

"Wait," said Jace suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes at Simon, whose Adam's apple bobbed uncomfortably. "Do you mean to tell me you haven't asked her yet?"

"Ask who?" Isabelle demanded. She gripped Simon's arm and yanked him to her, grasping at the front of his shirt as he fully spun around. "Simon Lewis," she spat. "Ask _who_?"

"Ask…_you_," he managed, and she released the front of his shirt in bewilderment.

Her nose scrunched up in confusion. "As me what?"

"To live with me," he said. "In Idris."

Clary blinked at that, and quickly glanced at Alec in confirmation. But from the looks of it, he wore a slightly bored and mild expression; Simon had probably talked to him about it earlier, Clary realized, to avoid chaos on tonight. Smart. But one look at Maryse and she knew this had not been discussed with her yet.

"_Excuse_ me?" she demanded, her voice barely rising above a whisper. Oh, no.

Simon swallowed, quickly looking at Isabelle for a reaction. But all she looked was shocked – her eyes were huge, her mouth parted slightly, frozen to the spot. Simon turned back to Maryse. "I'd like – I mean, it'd be a privilege to ask your blessing for your daughter to live with me in Idris."

Her jaw locked. "And what," she whispered viciously, "makes you think she wants to?"

A shocked silence followed. Simon opened his mouth, and snapped it closed quickly. A low, deep blush was quickly spreading through the tops of his cheeks, and Clary had never wanted to hit Maryse more.

"But I do," piped up Isabelle, surprising everyone. Her mother whirled on her. Isabelle, who had been looking at Simon with wonder, turned to Maryse. "I want to live with him."

"After all," Simon added, "we are twenty five and perfectly eligible to move."

"Wait." Jocelyn, who had not spoken a word for a long time, finally cut into the conversation. "Simon, why do you need to move to Idris?"

"You're not part of the NA too, are you?" asked Luke, a bit worriedly.

Simon shook his head. "Of course not." He offered a small smile. "The Academy offered me a job."

"As a janitor?" Maryse asked coldly, freezing Clary to the spot with a confused hatred before she could run up and hug him.

"As a teacher," Simon corrected. His words brought another wave a shock through the room. "They want me to either teach Mundane Studies or Religions."

After a moment of surprised stares, Luke nodded. "Impressive, Simon," he commended. "I'm proud of you."

Jocelyn, recovering from her tense shock, shook herself out of it. "I am too," she said, and offered a small smile.

"That's amazing, Simon," Clary praised, grinning broadly. "Look at you, growing up. Brings tears to my eyes."

"Okay, settle down there, Mom." said Simon, but he was grinning along with everyone.

But there was still one person who wasn't grinning – Maryse. "So you received an invitation for employment at the Academy," she continued, her jaw locked. Simon nodded vigorously, but she ignored this. "What does this entail?"

"Well," he said slowly. "This is a full-time occupation, so I'll be gone most of the day." He glanced at Isabelle worriedly, who stared back at him in acceptance and – pride. Clary saw his back straighten slightly.

"That's not," she said, "what I meant." Besides drilling her cool blue eyes into Simon, she redirected them on Jace, and then on Alec. She blew an exasperated breath. "By the Angel, do any of you think?" Before they could interrupt, she held up a hand and quickly continued. "Where are you going to live? In a house? You need to register a month in advance for that. A manor? There's only so many, and they're all too expensive for any of you to afford."

"Already got that covered," Jace cut in smoothly. He tapped his packet again. "I get full ownership over my family manor, and for serving in the NA, they cover the costs the house requires."

"Magnus and I already have a house," Alec included. At everyone's surprised glances, he shrugged nonchalantly and explained. "We were going to move there eventually."

"_Alexander_," said Maryse sharply. She stared at him in disbelief. "Have you already accepted a position in the NA?"

"Well, no," answered Alec crossly, his blue eyes narrowing. "I wouldn't leave without my parabatai."

But besides his response earning respect, it brought on more anger from Maryse. She crossed her arms and locked her jaw. "Then why the _hell_ would you _buy_ a _house_?"

"May I cut in, Maryse," Magnus interrupted politely, his grin blindingly white. "The house wasn't bought, exactly. It belonged to a close friend of mine who left the house to me in his will. He died in the War," he included, visibly noting her inquiring glare. "I'm positive you recognize his name. Does Ragnor Fell mean anything to you?"

Maryse looked as though she had just swallowed a lemon, but instead of retorting, she nodded curtly. "Fine. You two are excused from the dining room."

Alec reeled back, shock and hurt evident on his face. "But–"

"You are _excused_," repeated Maryse impatiently. Her eyes widened intimidatingly at her son, as if warning him to not argue. "I would like to speak to these two–" she gestured to Simon and Isabelle "–in private."

Without another word, Alec nodded curtly and grabbed Magnus's arm, dragging him out the dining room in a rapid pace. As if from a distance, a door slammed shut, the ang echoing through the room.

Maryse rounded on Simon after the two men left, her sour expression and sharp glare softened at her two sons' answers. "And of you?"

Simon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I've been signed permission for the purchase of a home," he said, "but I would like Isabelle's opinion of any houses before we sign more papers."

Isabelle smiled widely at that, and even released a small giggle. "Aw," she said, lightly intertwining their hands together. "You're adorable."

He grinned sheepishly. "I know."

Luke looked at Jace impressively. "You do, though?" he asked. "You have full inheritance of the Herondale family manor?"

"I did ever since I turned eighteen," Jace answered smugly, a beautiful and playful smirk dancing playfully across his lips. "The place is mine. Or if I'm lucky–" he looked over at Clary and smiled. He grabbed her hand and gave a small squeeze. "It will be ours."

Clary blushed and smiled, gripping his hand back tightly. She turned excitedly to her parents. "Did you hear, Mom? Jace said–"

"I'm well aware of what Jace said," Jocelyn snapped. Clary flinched back slightly, and Jocelyn, who had noticed this, seemed to wish to take what she had said back. The two Fairchild women shared a stare-down with each other, green on green, neither wanting to back down. After a moment Jocelyn assumed in irritated air and groaned loudly, earning curious stares from the remaining guests across the table. Luke looked down at her in surprise and rubbed her back in comforting circles, while Clary's mother rubbed her temples.

"You know what, Clarissa?" she sighed in defeat. Jocelyn waved her hand in emphasis. "You're allowed to move to Idris." Before Clary could start screaming with excitement, Jocelyn, just like Maryse had done, held up her hand. "I'm not done."

Clary bit her lip to keep herself from grinning and Jace, who had released her hand upon hearing the answer, crushed her into a tight side hug, a hug she gratefully returned.

Jocelyn sighed in exasperation and continued. "I expect monthly visits and weekly contact," she demanded, shaking off Luke's attempt for comfort. "And if anything goes wrong, I expect to be the first person to hear about it."

"Of course," said Clary, clutching Jace's shirt in apprehension.

"I expected no different," said Jace, clinging tightly to Clary in anticipation.

"And I'll be hiring someone to watch over you," Jocelyn finished with a determined scowl.

Clary's jaw dropped in shock. "_What_?" she exclaimed. "Do you not trust us that much?"

"It's not about trust," said Jocelyn, whose cheeks inflamed slightly with the accusation. "It's about protection. Idris is filled with people who still believe you were Valentine's daughter, and therefore would finish what he had started." Her voice grew tight on her past husband's name, and Clary flinched slightly upon hearing that old name she would always hear wherever she went in the Shadow World. The nickname had died down over the years, but who knows how it will be like in the home country, where it had all started.

"I believe," said Jace slowly, "I can offer the best protection needed."

Jocelyn sharp look slewed to Jace. "That may be," she said. "But what about when you're working, when you're too far away to come to the aid for Clary if she were attacked? Working for the NA isn't exactly a stay-at-home occupation."

Jace bit his lip and looked away. "Mom, you're being ridiculous," Clary interrupted, annoyance bubbling inside her. "I can handle myself."

"Be reasonable, Jocelyn," Luke urged. He gestured over to Simon and Isabelle. "They will watch over her, if asked. I know they will."

Jocelyn was tugging at her hair nervously. "Alright, fine," she sighed. "I won't hire protection." Her expression turned hard as she glared at Jace momentarily. "But if I see one scratch on you, you're coming straight home."

"Then it's settled," said Clary, and excitement bit her words to a higher octave. She turned to Jace. "We're moving to Idris!"

He grinned the widest grin she had ever seen, and it suddenly seemed insane to keep this most distance between them. As if sharing the same realization, Jace and Clary barreled into each other tightly, and Jace picked her off the ground and spun around, both laughing and smiling like maniacs. From the corner of her eye Clary thought she saw Luke grinning widely and Jocelyn, who had an arm wrapped around his waist, gave them the tiniest of smiles. Loud cheering was erupting in her ears, and Clary couldn't tell if it were her own or someone else's. It really was settled, then.

They were moving to Idris.

Together.

~o~

**Simon's P.O.V**

Simon bit his lip nervously as Maryse drilled holes into him. Isabelle, who had grabbed his hand for comfort not too long ago, squeezed tightly, and Simon returned it with a nervous grace.

"Simon Lewis," said Maryse, drumming her sharp red nail on the tabletop. She slowly shook her head. "I just don't know what to expect from you."

"Expect the best," Isabelle snapped. Simon glanced at her, and was surprised to see her visibly angry. "By the Angel, mother, he doesn't murder toddlers for a living."

Maryse glared at her daughter. "I know that," she responded tightly. She sniffed. "I don't know who Simon is. What kind of guy he is. What his hobbies include. You never know, Isabelle."

Simon felt those words like a sucker punch to his gut, but he refused to give Maryse the satisfaction by flinching back. He stood his ground and tried his best to not interrupt in defensiveness, for he knew the only thing that will result out of that would be extreme denial for permission.

So instead, Isabelle spoke up. "You want to know what kind of guy Simon is?" she demanded shrilly, releasing his hand to step up to her mother. Maryse narrowed her eyes, but didn't interrupt. Isabelle continued in mid-rant. "Simon is the kind of guy to bring flowers every weekend. Simon is the kind of guy to watch those really cheesy movies with without complaints. Simon is the kind of guy to run to the store to pick up ice cream in the middle of the night when you're feeling upset. Hell, he did that for Clary several times since we've met!" Isabelle huffed, her rounded, coffee eyes shining with tears threating to spill over. "Simon stays with me when everyone else abandoned me. Simon keeps me company when everyone else is living their own life. Simon keeps me happy when I'm feeling upset. Simon makes me laugh when the only thing I want to do is cry. Simon lifts my mood when I'm feeling depressed. Simon protects me on hunts. Simon comforts me, heals me, _loves_ me, and I love him, so, _so_ much, and if you're too blind to see that, then, well…" she trailed off with a tiny smile, a tear slipping down her face. "We don't need your approval to move. Because we'll do it anyways."

And then, to his surprise, Isabelle whirled on her heels and grabbed Simon by the front of his shirt. She yanked him to her, and then suddenly her lips were on his, and everything fell away. The kiss spoke of everything they couldn't say out loud: trust, thanks, forgiveness, and love. But just as sudden as the kiss itself, it broke, and Isabelle was left huffing against his tingling lips. He felt her mumble something against his lips, and dazedly he nodded in response. With one last peck Isabelle turned to her mother with her chin held up high, speaking of superiority. Simon wrapped his arms around her waist and felt her fractionally lean back.

Maryse was glaring at them harshly, splotches of red resting high on her cheekbones. "Even if you were to move," she said, and at the word 'move' her lips twisted. "Where would you stay? You don't even have a house."

Before Simon could even contemplate, Isabelle responded. "We'll stay with Jace and Clary," she said, as if it were obvious. Maybe it was. "They have a huge ass mansion to themselves, and it's just the two of them."

Maryse's lips twisted into a cold smirk. "You don't even know if they're moving," she said softly, and gave a pointed look over at Jocelyn, who was glaring harshly at the two twenty-year-olds in front of her, clinging to each other with hope and nervousness. "Jocelyn could very well say no."

"She wouldn't," said Isabelle, but her voice wavered. She bit her lip, watching the older woman. But then, a strange light of an idea erupted in the deep brown depths of her eyes, and Simon even saw her smirk lightly for a slight second before looking away. His heartrate picked up with excitement. Izzy realized something. She turned back to her mother with a new stubborn set to her locked jaw. "Let's make a deal." she said determinedly, and Maryse cocked an eyebrow.

She placed her hands on her hips. "What sort of deal do you propose?"

Isabelle was full out smirking now. "If Jocelyn agrees to Jace and Clary moving," she said, "then we get to move, too."

"That's ridiculous," Maryse scoffed. "The answer is no, Isabelle."

"But, mother," Izzy pressed on. "What are the chances of Jocelyn agreeing to let Jace take her only daughter, a daughter she threw her life away for, to Idris with the promise of no permanent return?"

Mayrse chewed on the inside of her cheek in thought. "I suppose you're right…" she trailed off with a sigh. "Alright, fine. Deal," she exhaled in exasperation, but quickly continued as Simon and Isabelle turned to each other with massive grins and a 'totally controlled' excited hug. "But I'm only doing this because if Jocelyn agrees, Alec and Jace will be there to watch out for you."

"Alright, alright," Isabelle chorused, hugging Simon from the side. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he smiled into her vanilla-scented, ink-black hair. He could get used to this. "Whatever."

But that 'whatever' turned out to be something bigger as Jace and Clary squealed with sudden happiness and Jace picked her up off the floor and spun them both around in circles, laughing and yelling with a happiness that would crack a grin on anyone's face. Knowing fully well what the random burst of cheering meant, Isabelle and Simon turned to each other and yelled with cheerfulness as well, Simon engulfing Isabelle into a massive, bone-crushing hug that no one but herself could probably handle; laughs, whoops of happiness, tears of joy, and a promise of a drunken morning rung in everyone's ears as the two couples danced with their partners, a promise of a new life ringing in their minds. They were moving to Idris. They were all moving to Idris.

This was a new chapter for them.

A New Beginning.

* * *

><p><strong>Prepare for the real fun to begin. ;)<strong>

**~MJ**


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